


Infectious

by Spoon888



Series: Mission And Companion Pieces [13]
Category: Transformers - All Media Types
Genre: Fluff, Gen, M/M, Over-Sympathetic Thrax, Sickfic, Sparkling Characters - Freeform, Transformer Sparklings, Unsympathetic Megatron, Violent Toddlers
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-09-28
Updated: 2019-09-28
Packaged: 2020-10-30 00:17:07
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,661
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20805368
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Spoon888/pseuds/Spoon888
Summary: Starscream is suffering with a contagious virus and is confined to quarters. Despite orders from Megatron to keep away, Thrax wants to help out, much to everyone's despair.





	Infectious

**Author's Note:**

> Sometimes when kids want to 'help' they end up doing the opposite. A little thank you fic for an anon.

Starscream _despised_ sickness.

He woke up that morning to Megatron huffing in displeasure and tearing away heavy sheets, now damp from the condensation brimming around the shutters of Starscream's air vents.

The berth was hot, but Starscream's limbs jolted and curled up in the absence of insulation, his joints stiff, sensors registering a non-existent chill in the air and creeping under his armour. His denta chattered together in his mouth when the fuzzy outline of Megatron hovered over him. A large hand fell to his forehead, checking his internal temperature.

Through malfunctioning optics all Starscream registered was a grim frown.

"You have a virus."

Covers -fresh, clean, and dry- replaced the old as Megatron dragged them over him. Starscream's stiff fingers clutched at them gratefully and brought them higher.

"Your powers of observation have always been a thing of envy," Starscream croaked, and hunkered down in the sheets resentfully.

Before Megatron could respond with something equally snide, the door to one of their sparkling's rooms swept open, and Thrax, always a morning person, came barreling in like a little blue and white blur. With a curse, Starscream pushed his hands out in front of him, hoping to ward off Thrax's exuberant advance before his sparkling could bring his vulnerable frame and _undeveloped firewalls_ within range of his infectious self.

"No!"

Thrax's launch for the berth was intercepted by Megatron's skilled one-handed catch. He was held suspended above the berth, limbs dangling, optics blinking in confusion. "Huh?"

"Your creator is unwell." Megatron told him simply, turning and setting him back on his feet a far safer distance from the berth. "You mustn't touch him."

"Why?" Thrax was immediately distraught, and naturally, jumped to all the wrong conclusions. "Is he gonna die?!"

Processor currently being assaulted with popups and pounding behind his optics, Starscream almost wished he _would_ die.

"No." He heard Megatron murmur soothingly, but then add, with a hint of exasperated disgust. "Simply riddled with malware he picked up from one of those disgusting spaceports he frequents. You shouldn't have to suffer for his foolishness."

"Shut up!" Starscream growled from beneath the covers. "It wasn't a spaceport!"

"You certainly didn't contract it aboard _this_ ship." He heard Megatron snarl back. Starscream poked his head out of the top of the sheets to glare back. "We could have an epidemic on our hands!"

"Will you _calm down_. It's a common virus," Starscream scoffed. "Hardly _cosmic rust_."

Still glaring, Megatron hoisted Thrax up into his arms and murmured something to him. Whatever it was seemed to sooth his fears, because he nodded obediently and hurried back into his room when he was set down again. Now alone, Megatron turned harsh optics back on Starscream.

"We have _three_ small sparklings." He began, judgmental and harsh from overactive protective protocols

"Two sparklings," Starscream corrected. "Mission's a mechling."

"You've put them at risk bringing this on board. You should have followed the decontamination protocols," Megatron continued as if he hadn't spoken, and thrust a digit at him in condemnation.

"No one else does!" Starscream argued, throwing his arms up.

"Stay right there." Megatron threateningly jabbed his digit at him again. "Do not leave this room. Do not _touch_ anything-"

"You're just leaving me?" Starscream croaked miserably, already feeling neglected. "But I'm sick!"

"I need to get the sparklings as far away from _you_ as possible," Megatron growled. "I'll send your trine if you're that incapable of taking care of yourself."

"It's a common virus!" He protested again. "It's not going to kill them!"

"I am not going to play the glorified nursemaid to three sick sparklings all because you couldn't keep your infectious diseases to yourself!" Megatron snapped.

Starscream crossed his arms and flopped back against his berth, accepting of his fate, but refusing to be quiet about it. "You're a _bad_ mate, leaving me to suffer."

Megatron opened the door to Thrax's room, and unsurprisingly, Thrax was stood in the doorway where he'd been left, little face sad and worried from what he'd overheard.

Megatron scooped him up. "You'll live," he told Starscream.

Over Megatron's shoulder, a much more sympathetic Thrax gave Starscream a solemn wave goodbye.

* * *

Thrax wasn't stupid. Even if Mission said he was. Even if _Invicta_ -whose vocabulary was limited to that of a four year olds- said he was. He wasn't. He knew his creator was feeling bad, and that leaving him alone in his room with no one to talk too or make him feel better was wrong.

His sire claimed not to have the necessary skills to both perform both his shift duties and watch two small sparklings at the same time, so had given Thrax and Invicta to Thundercracker -who Thrax _loved_ because he told stories and hugged really tight and never shouted, but he wasn't his creator.

Thundercracker set them down in front of a screen and went to type something up on his datapad. It was some kind of alien programme, with 'squishies' -as Skywarp called them- running around in colourful suits and punching things. Thrax didn't like it much, but Invicta was endeared almost instantly. Her optics were as wide as saucers as she tracked the punches and the kicks, smiling when a character fell and didn't get back up.

"TC!" Thrax called, rolling onto his knees and pushing himself up with his hands. He ran to Thundercracker's chair and clutched at his leg. "Can I go back now?"

"Starscream's sick." Thundercracker looked over the top of the datapad. "He needs time to get better first."

Thrax hugged Thundercracker's leg tighter. "But he needs me." Thrax implored. "Sire's busy with Mission. And if he's not looking after him, then I should!"

"Skywarp is looking after him."

That didn't make Thrax feel any better. Skywarp sometimes 'looked after' him too.

"But he's _my_ creator!"

Thundercracker's face softened, but he didn't let up. "The best thing you can do for Starscream now is to behave yourself. Won't he be happy to hear how good you were?"

Thrax honestly didn't think his creator would care about good behaviour. Normally he praised _bad_ behaviour -so long as he could do it behind Megatron's back.

Knowing a lost cause when he saw it though, he nodded obediently and resigned himself to having to wait until Thundercracker's back was turned.

Or he could think up some sort of distraction?

And a distraction was offered up almost instantly when the ad break came on the TV.

No longer entertained by the violence occurring on screen, Invicta jumped up and started reenacting the punches and kicks presented to her from the programme. Knowing an attack when it was incoming, Thrax darted away from her curled fists and clenched teeth, and ran under Thundercracker's chair. Invicta chose the next best target, drawing a leg back and kicking Thundercracker right in the shin armour. With so much mustered strength, she left a tiny dent.

Thundercracker cried out and dropped his datapad, and Thrax made a break for it, jumping as high as he could to reach the door panel and then running out into the corridor.

He didn't have far to go. Thundercracker and Skywarp's room wasn't far from his parents'. He reached the door to their shared quarters and performed the same jump and reach to hit the door access again. It was unlocked, luckily, probably from where Skywarp had forgotten to seal it.

The room was dark and silent. Thrax moved over the threshold cautiously, and spied Skywarp slumped over in a chair at the end of the berth. His optics were shuttered and his mouth open where he had fallen into recharge.

Thrax felt validated in his decision disobeying orders and coming back now.

His creator was also recharging, bundled up in sheets, dark face a pale grey, and his vents shuttering and wheezing unpleasantly. It was a far cry to how Thrax was used to seeing him -glossy, stylish, and poised.

"Creator?" Thrax whispered, griping the sheets hanging off the edge of the berth to start pulling himself up. "Creator, it's me."

His creator didn't stir, so Thrax had to struggle through the task of hauling himself up onto the high berth by himself. He swung a leg up and rolled onto the padding, little vents working hard from the exertion. His creator was still asleep.

He pulled away a corner of the covers in order to climb in. His creator was very hot, and smelled kinda funny- not the usual prettier smell of his wax or polish, but something more like ozone. Like how the other seekers smelled when they returned from a long flight. Thrax didn't mind much, and snuggled down into the crook of Starscream's arm anyway.

Comfortable and close, he let himself drift off.

* * *

Cold, aching, and confused, Thrax woke some time later to harsh whispering and big hands lifting him to a large grey chest. He let his optics flick open, but their feed was distorted by static. He saw a blurry purple shape like a Decepticon insignia, and heard the furious hiss of his sire's voice, "-blame _all_ of you!"

"I was _asleep_!" He heard his creator's croaky voice protest.

"Hey, so was I!" Skywarp cried.

"_You_ weren't _supposed_ to be."

"Don't blame _me_," Skywarp protested. "_Thundercracker_ was supposed to be watching him!"

Thrax drowned the voices out, his processor aching too much to follow their argument anyway. A mouth dropped to his helm and murmured soothing nonsense to him softly. It was sire.

"I don't feel well," He complained miserably.

Megatron hummed and stroked up and down his back.

"You know _you're_ gonna get sick too, sir." Skywarp pointed out obnoxiously.

Megatron's growl was enough to imply he was well beyond the point of caring now, and taking the hint, Skywarp fell obediently silent. Thrax meanwhile, snuggled closer and enjoyed the soothing rumble of his sire's powerful engines.

He may have gotten himself sick too, but at least now no one was suffering alone.


End file.
